


When Boy Meets Boy

by squadrickchestopher



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton's Ripped Shirts, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Oblivious, POV Bucky Barnes, Pre-Slash, i am going to make that a tag, no beta we die like men, terrible pickup lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26239750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squadrickchestopher/pseuds/squadrickchestopher
Summary: In no particular order, these are Bucky’s problems:1. Clint Barton is hot. Like, jaw-dropping, mind-bending hot.2. Bucky is not good at flirting.3. Bucky is not good at people in general, really.4. …seriously, Clint Barton is hot.5. Bucky really, really wants to ask him out6. He has no idea how to do that.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 31
Kudos: 272
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo Round Two





	When Boy Meets Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Filling my "obliviousness" square for WHB
> 
> Inspired by [this lovely artwork by Harishe](https://harishe-art.tumblr.com/tagged/captain-america). It's technically Stucky, but I'm a Winterhawk Ho, so I repurposed it (with permission). Thank you for your lovely art, Harishe, you brighten my life. <3
> 
> Title borrowed from Matt Fishel's "When Boy Meets Boy"

In no particular order, these are Bucky’s problems:

1\. Clint Barton is _hot_. Like, jaw-dropping, mind-bending hot.

2\. Bucky is not good at flirting.

3\. Bucky is not good at people in general, really.

4\. … _seriously_ , Clint Barton is hot.

5\. Bucky really, really wants to ask him out

6\. He has no idea how to do that.

“Just ask him out,” Nat says, throwing a Cheeto at his face. It bounces off his nose and lands on his chest. “He’ll say yes.”

“But how?” Bucky asks, staring the ceiling like it might give him an answer—which, considering that they’re in Avengers Tower, is entirely possible. JARVIS does know a lot of things. He might have an idea.

“ _But how,_ ” Natasha mocks him. “Ask. Him. Just go right up to him and ask him to get coffee with you. He’ll trip over himself to say yes. Literally.”

“He doesn’t like me,” Bucky whines. Actually _whines_. God, he’s pathetic. “I’ve been dropping hints all over the place, he’s never shown the slightest bit of interest.”

Nat snorts. “Barnes. This is Clint Barton we’re talking about. You need to use your _words_ with him.”

Bucky keeps talking over her. “I sit next to him during movie nights. I made him breakfast once. I bought him coffee like…four times this week alone. I’m going to go bankrupt at this rate.” Bucky picks the Cheeto off his shirt and eats it.

Nat throws another one at him. “Your _words_ , Barnes,” she repeats, a little louder. “Next time you see him, say these exact words. ‘Clint, would you like to go get a coffee with me?’”

“But what if he says no?”

“He’s not going to say no. It’s coffee. Take him out to coffee, then tell him you like him.”

“Tony told me to use a bad pickup line on him.”

“Are you going to believe Tony, or me?”

“But Clint loves bad pickup lines.”

“He does,” she concedes. “But if you want him to go out with you, you’re still better off saying what I told you to say.”

Bucky scowls at the ceiling. “Will you ask him for me?”

“We’re not in grade school. You want to ask a boy out, you can ask him yourself. I told you what to say.” She grins. “Buck up and do it.”

Bucky whines again and shoves his face into the couch cushions. “I hate you.”

“I know.” She pats his leg and gets up. “Good luck.”

* * *

Next time he sees Clint, though, they’re fighting oversized crocodiles in the sewers of New York, and he doesn’t have a chance to ask. He does have to excuse himself from the debriefing, though, because Clint somehow got his shirt ripped to pieces and Bucky can see all eight million of his abs, and it’s possible he might die if he has to sit there and look at them any longer.

* * *

The time after that, he’s fishing Clint out of a dumpster, and the guy needs twelve stitches and has a concussion, and it just doesn’t feel like the right moment, even though his shirt’s all ripped up _again_ and there’s flexing muscles everywhere and goddammit this is definitely how Bucky’s going to die.

* * *

He almost does it during team dinner, but then he catches Nat’s eye, and decides not to. He can’t do it in front of her, she’ll be smug forever. Also, Clint’s wearing a tank top, the one that shows off his arms, and every time Bucky looks at his biceps he kind of forgets what words are anyway.

* * *

“You’re acting weird,” Clint tells him two days later. “Everything okay?”

Bucky stares for a moment, because Clint’s wearing running shorts and nothing else and he’s all glistening with sweat and high off endorphins form working out and—

“Everything’s fine,” Bucky manages, making himself look back at the TV. _It’s fine, except I like you and I want to get coffee with you and possibly tie you to my bed._

“You sure?”

_How are you so fucking attractive this is not fair._

“I’m _very_ sure.” He grabs a nearby blanket and tucks it over his lap, trying to toe the line between hiding his boner and being discreet. Clint doesn’t seem to notice, though, and Bucky thinks Nat might have been onto something with the whole “he’s very oblivious thing.”

“Okay,” Clint says, and pats his shoulder before going off to shower.

Bucky does his best to think about other things.

He does not succeed.

* * *

“Just treat it like a mission,” he tells himself later, staring himself down in the mirror. “He’s a mission. You’ve done missions before.”

 _You’ve never done him, though,_ snarks some little part of his brain, and Bucky snarls in annoyance at it before setting his toothbrush down.

“It’s a mission,” Bucky says again. “You were the Winter Soldier, man. You can do this.”

He wonders, suddenly, what it would’ve been like to run into Clint as the Winter Soldier. Probably would’ve ended up taking him hostage or something—guy acts like an idiot, but he’s damn smart, and good at what he does. Way more than anyone—even Bucky, sometimes—gives him credit for. Hydra probably would’ve wanted him as an asset.

Probably still does, to be honest. Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if the idea was percolating in the back of some Nazi’s head somewhere. Skill-wise, Clint would make a good asset.

Well, they can’t have him. They’ll have to go through Bucky first, and he’s not going anywhere.

Bucky nods at the mirror, then takes the elevator to the main floor, feeling determination flood him. He’ll do it. He’ll ask Clint to coffee, and then—

“Hey!” Clint calls, as soon as the elevator doors open, and he’s already drinking coffee, dammit, sitting on the kitchen counter. The pot is half-full and he’s sipping from it like it’s a mug. “What’s up?”

He’s wearing grey sweatpants, and a blue shirt—long-sleeved, too small in the chest and too tight in the arms—and Bucky has to force his brain back online before he can respond. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Clint sighs. “Damn. I’m bored.”

“I mean—” Bucky rubs a hand through his hair, then scowls. “We could…” He trails off, trying to think of something else to do. Anything else. Clint likes that dog show, they could watch that, or maybe they could go shoot something at the range, or they could go out for bagels or something—

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky says, probably too quickly. “I’m fine, everything is fine, why?”

“You’re still being weird,” Clint says. “Seriously, did I do something?” He looks amused, but there’s a real note of worry in his voice. “Because—”

“You’re fine,” Bucky says, distinctly thinking he needs another word. “Seriously. I’m just…being me.”

“Oh.” Clint takes another swig of coffee. “Anything I can do to help?”

 _Stop wearing tight shirts around me._ “No, probably not.”

“Alright. Let me know if I can.” He drains the last of the pot, then drops it in the sink. “I’m gonna go shoot stuff.”

 _Ask him,_ Natasha’s voice hisses in Bucky’s ear. _Use your words._

“Clint,” Bucky says, and he stops at the elevator, looking back with a curious expression.

“Yeah, what?”

_Do you want to go get coffee with me?_

“Never mind,” Bucky says, and he turns around, determinedly flicking on the water in the sink. He washes the coffee pot, then all of the other dishes strewn around the kitchen, and doesn’t stop until he hears the elevator ding again, and Natasha and Tony walk out.

“You’re doing dishes,” Tony says, sounding surprised. “You realize I have a dishwasher, right?”

Nat, for her part, just leans around the counter and looks at him. She studies his face for a moment, then says, “You’re a coward, Barnes.”

And well. She’s got a point.

* * *

“I can’t think straight when I’m around you.”

Bucky doesn’t mean to say that at all, but when Clint asks him for the tenth time if he’s okay, it just slips out.

Okay, he technically _yells_ it, but that’s neither here nor there.

Clint just stares at him for a moment. Then says, “Huh?”

“I can’t think straight,” Bucky says again. “I can’t—you keep wearing _shirts_.”

Clint stares some more, then looks down at his shirt. It’s not even tight today, just a god-awful Hawaiian-print button down, and Bucky _still_ can’t handle it. “I…do you not want me to wear shirts?”

“No. Yes. I mean…” Bucky buries his face in his hands.

They’re sitting on the roof, watching the sun set over the buildings. Clint had caught him after team training, grabbed his arm and said “ _I’ve got tacos and tequila, meet me on the roof in an hour.”_ He’d whispered it, lips brushing Bucky’s ear like it was some kind of secret.

And maybe it was, because there’s no one else up here. It’s just the two of them, and Clint’s shirt—which is loud enough to be its own person, honestly—and he’s set up lawn chairs and umbrellas and even strewn sand around.

Basically, he’s made a beach on the roof, and when Bucky had asked why, he’d shrugged and said, “You’ve seemed kinda off the last few days. Seemed like something you might like.”

So Bucky was already a little off-balance, and then Clint had asked _again_ if he was okay, and the words had just spilled out of him like a waterfall. Which brings them to this moment, staring at each other, and Clint asking if he should be _shirtless_ more often, and Bucky just can’t handle this.

He stands up and walks to the edge of the roof, briefly debating the merits of jumping off. Smashing into the sidewalk would be less awful than this, right?

Natasha’s voice echoes in his mind. _You’re a coward, Barnes._

“I can’t think straight,” he says again, turning around and squaring his shoulders. It’s a mission. He can do this. “You make me not think straight.”

Clint blinks. “I make you not think _straight_?” He bursts out laughing, hard enough that he collapses into the lawn chair. “That,” he says, gasping for in between words, “has got to be the _lamest_ pick-up line in existence.”

“I—” Bucky shakes his head. “No. I’m—what? That’s not—it wasn’t a _line_ , it’s the _truth_ —”

Clint is still giggling, though, so Bucky just crosses his arms and waits it out. It takes a solid two or three minutes for him to calm himself down enough to wipe his eyes and sit up straighter. “I’m sorry,” he says, sounding just the opposite. “But I just—you know I’m bi, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Of course I know—I am too, but that’s not—” He makes himself take a deep breath. “I wasn’t trying to use a line on you, I was just telling you the truth. You make me crazy.”

Clint tilts his head, still smiling. “Is it the shirts?”

“It’s the _everything_ ,” Bucky says, gesturing to all of him. “I—I don’t know what it is about you, but you make me fucking crazy, and I don’t know how to handle it.” The words are pouring out of him now, weeks of frustration and longing just spilling out of him like a glass that’s too full. “Every goddamn time I see you it’s like I can’t think, and you’re just—”

“Just what?” Clint asks, his voice a little quieter. “Hmm?”

Bucky takes another breath and rubs his eyebrows in frustration. “Just perfect,” he says after a moment. He swallows hard, then forces Natasha’s words out. “I want to take you out to coffee.”

Clint looks—well, he looks like he’s been punched in the face, really. The laughter is gone, traded for a stunned look that Bucky can’t really read.

“Oh,” he says after a moment, and gets to his feet, coming a little closer. “I, uh. I didn’t know. That you felt that way.”

“I know,” Bucky says, suddenly feeling like he’s done all this backwards. He should’ve led with the coffee, saved his stupid declarations for another day, now Clint’s probably freaking out about everything he said and Bucky doesn’t—

Clint kisses him.

As soon as the shock of it wears off, Bucky kisses him back. He tastes like tequila, sharp and sweet and perfect. Clint’s arms are around him, pulling him close, and Bucky holds onto him too, half-afraid that if he lets go he’s gonna fall over.

Eventually they break apart, and Clint rests his forehead against Bucky’s, breathing in short pants. “I like you too,” he says, sounding happier than Bucky’s ever heard him. “I didn’t think you did—”

“I bought you coffee,” Bucky says. “And I sit next to you, and I made you breakfast once, and the other day—”

“Well, I do stuff for you too!” Clint pokes him, stepping back a little. “I brought _you_ coffee, and got you new pants when you were bitching about yours, and I—”

He stops, then lets go of Bucky entirely. “Oh,” he says, sounding stunned, and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Oh. Okay. Nat’s right. We’re both morons.”

Bucky nods. “She _told_ me to just ask you,” he says. "Guess I should've listened."

“Yeah, that’s what she said to me.” Clint sighs. “Said you’d never pick up on it, and I had to use my _words_.”

“That’s what she said to me!” Bucky looks down at the roof, imagining he can see her through the layers of metal and steel. “Do you think she enjoys this? Is this what she does for fun?”

“She _definitely_ enjoys this,” Clint says. “Five bucks says she’s sitting down there and cackling like a James Bond villain.”

“She so is.” Bucky tugs him closer. “We’ll have to take our revenge at some point.”

“We will,” he agrees. “But first…” He kisses Bucky again, sweeter this time, a slow exploration. Then he grins against Bucky’s mouth and says, “Good thing I’m a sucker for bad pickup lines.”

“It _wasn’t_ a line,” Bucky mumbles. “Besides, that was just plan A.”

“Oh?” Clint’s voice just drips amusement. “What was plan B?”

Bucky shrugs. “Take you hostage?”

That gets him laughing again, and Bucky has to hold him up as his knees wobble. He doesn’t mind it so much.

“For the record,” Clint finally gets out, grinning widely, “you don’t have to kidnap me for coffee. Just ask. I’m always happy to get coffee.”

“Fine,” Bucky says. “Wanna go get coffee?”

“Absolutely.” Clint loops his arms over Bucky’s shoulders. “Wanna kiss some more first?”

“Hell yeah,” Bucky says, and pulls him down into another one.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr!](https://feedmecookiesnow.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] When Boy Meets Boy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28177887) by [Flowerparrish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowerparrish/pseuds/Flowerparrish)




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